She Doesn't Like Pink Anymore
by Rosie White
Summary: Ginny Weasley is supposed to like pink. Written after HBP and before Deathly Hallows. One-shot.


**Title:** She Doesn't Like Pink Anymore

**Summary:** Ginny Weasley is supposed to like pink.

**Setting:** Written after HBP.

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Author's Note:** Wrote this...jeesh...YEARS ago. I wrote it after the Half-Blood Prince, so obviously, keep that in mind that this is NOT CANON ACCURATE. Reposting because I really do like my use of color imagery in it. I hope you do too. Also: THIS IS NOT A ROMANCE FIC.

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She feels the shower, hot and scalding on her skin. She shouldn't really be using this much hot water, as Ron, Hermione and Harry still have yet to take showers. Mum will probably yell at her for causing the heating charms to wear off.

But she doesn't care. She doesn't care about the wedding today. She doesn't care about the war, Ron and Hermione's new relationship. She doesn't care about anything anymore.

She glances down at her arms, soaked and turning a bright pink because of the searing water. The pink makes her think of her room. She hates it. The pink wallpaper with the pink rosebuds and the pink curtains and the creamy white bed frame and pink comforter with the pink bed skirt that has white lace…

After first year, she had sat in her room for a long time, looking all around at the pink. The next thing she had known was that she had out her old wizarding crayons, trying to color away the layers of pink with layers of green. Dark green, forest green…_Avada Kedavra _green. Mum had caught her about an hour later and had proceeded to _Scourgify _all the green away.

"But, Mum, I don't like pink anymore…"

"_Nonsense, Ginny, all little girls adore pink. It keeps them innocent."_

Since then, Ginny tried to like pink. She wanted to stay innocent. She wanted to forget about the war outside, the tense moments between her brothers when Percy was mentioned, Harry…

Lately, though, yearnings for green were starting to come back.

She dunks her head under the shower and allows the water to drench her long, flowing hair. Anything to drown out the thoughts of him….

The first night after he, Ron and Hermione had come back from his aunt and uncle's house, they had greeted each other tensely. How did one act around an ex-boyfriend?

But that night, a warm body coiled itself around her like a snake.

"_What are you doing here?"_

"_Finding comfort."_

He drifted to sleep not long after.

For three nights, this was his only answer. He would be up and gone before she was up the next morning but not before leaving a dent in her pink pillow…

And tear stains.

The fourth night, he nuzzled her neck and breathed long into her ear.

"_It's hard." _He had finally whispered.

"What is?"

"_Everything."_

And then he kissed her soundly on the lips and she dreamed of emerald eyes and forest green tears, sobbed into a pink pillow.

She scrubs the soap over her body and rinses it quickly. She bends over and plugs the drain in the tub, and allows the shower to fill the bath. After it's full, she turns the shower off and submerges herself in the water. She takes a deep breath and goes under.

After the fifth night with him, she had finally been awakened by his sounds of sobbing.

"_I can't do this alone. I can't do this alone_," He had repeated brokenly.

"You're not alone, Harry. You have Ron and Her-,".

"_Not anymore."_

She had been the one to kiss him then. And it wasn't until the following morning did she realize what the ache between her legs, the blood on the sheets, and the lack of clothes on her person mean.

Harry had told her a joke at breakfast that morning about chocolate frogs.

It continued for another four nights. They didn't talk at all. Only moans and occasional mutterings served as communication.

And sometimes, after she was certain he was asleep, she cried her pink and green tears. Sometimes the tears were for him; sometimes they were for anger. Anger at what he had caused her to become. She was far too young for this…she shouldn't have to be his lighthouse, a shining beacon of light in a sea of darkness. This was the precise reason why he had…

On the tenth night, after he had rolled over, she had whispered.

"Do you love me?"

A tense silence followed. She sat up and peered over his side to see his face.

Silent, hot tears flowed freely down his cheeks.

"_No."_

He closed his eyes and went to sleep. She stayed awake the rest of the night, staring at the pinks walls with the rosebuds.

She rips her head out of the water, gasping for breath. Ron's banging on the door like a maniac, shouting Ginny you've been in there for an hour, get out, I'm tired of waiting…

He leaves after a minute and she reaches over and pulls the stopper. She wraps herself up in a towel and walks to her room.

Thank God Hermione hadn't asked any questions about why she wanted green walls.


End file.
